<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Last Waltz by nimpark</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365677">The Last Waltz</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimpark/pseuds/nimpark'>nimpark</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drop The Game [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Codependency, Joker (DCU) Has Issues, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Retirement, bruce and joker go through midlife crises?, except the "parents" are four judgemental children and a tired butler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:41:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimpark/pseuds/nimpark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Joker are tired of this game they always play. They both want something new.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drop The Game [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>152</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hkqsJIQFKNc">The Last Waltz by Engelbert Humperdinck</a>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>This song inspires so many batjokes feelings that I felt it would be wrong not to write a fic based on it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flowers were a surprise. There weren’t many people who would get them for him. Sweet-smelling buds with velvety white petals. Stalks of bright orange lilies a shocking spark of color. Shiny purple wrapping paper encased the vase the flowers were held in. His secretary had brought them up early in the morning, saying they were left on her desk when she got to work.</p><p><br/>
Bruce sat at his desk at Wayne Tower, the vase of flowers standing across from him on the desk. He recognized those colors— alone, they were quite meaningless but together, with the orange and the purple and white, his mind conjured up a familiar image.</p><p><br/>
There was a bright pink card in the shape of a heart sticking out of the purple paper. It should be harmless. Bruce already did a paranoia-fueled check on every element in the gift. Nothing was there to raise red flags. Alfred would scoff at his overprotectiveness, but the butler wasn’t here now. Just Bruce and a sickeningly familiar vase of flowers. He couldn’t bring himself to read the card just yet.</p><p><br/>
It had been months since Joker has made any loud noise. There were whispers here and there; a few criminals mentioning him in passing, new graffiti on the GCPD building, Riddler suddenly being more pissed off and volatile sometimes. All signs that Joker was out and about. Bruce had wondered (Alfred would say he was <em>obsessing</em>) what he was planning once Joker escaped Arkham again, but even Harley wouldn’t budge. If she knew any information, to begin with— she said she never wanted to see him again after the last time he left her for dead. And, for the first time, she seemed to be sticking to that promise.</p><p><br/>
Joker wasn’t dumb. He wouldn’t just give himself up like this. Not without a show, at least. And, Bruce, supposed therein lies the problem.</p><p><br/>
A message from Joker like this is a definite promise for chaos. Possibly another plan to poison Gotham’s water supply, or to kill the mayor and take her job. Hundreds of innocent men, women, and children would be caught in the crossfire. And Bruce was… tired nowadays. He turned forty-eight last month and, God, was he feeling it. His joints ached each morning, past wounds becoming aggravated and stiff while he was sleeping. He went to bed at seven pm when he wasn’t on patrol. Seven pm, for God’s sake.</p><p><br/>
How did Joker have the stamina?</p><p><br/>
Bruce couldn’t ignore this gift forever. He leaned forward to pick the card out of the papers. A smarter man might be scared, but all he wanted was for this to be a goodbye note.<em> I turned myself into Arkham to save you the trouble!</em> Bruce snorted at the absurdity of that idea. Joker never backed down without a fight.</p><p><br/>
<em>Meet me at Robinson Park. 8 o’clock tonight. Wear your best kevlar suit. LOVE, JOKER</em>
</p><p><br/>
He took a deep breath, hand holding the card raising to rest on his forehead. He could smell subtle accents of green apple shampoo. A scent always accompanied by a bright red smile. There were nights on patrol after they had a nasty fight in which Bruce wished he could go back and finish the job. The scent felt like a taunt.</p><p><br/>
And Bruce was going to bite the bait. It wasn’t even a question. He would always bite the bait. Tucking the card into his breast pocket, Bruce pulled out his cell phone and called the manor.</p><p><br/>
“Alfred,” he greeted. “Can you send a message to Nightwing and Red Robin? I found a lead on the Joker and I wanted some backup. Have them meet me a block away from Robinson Park, fifteen minutes before eight tonight.”</p>
<hr/><p>It’s 7:50. The streetlights around Robinson Park glow in fading sunset. Bruce is wearing his thick, protective armor and staying in the shadows of an alley nearby. It was almost eight and there was still no sign of Joker.</p><p><br/>
Nightwing was hidden in their meeting place and Red Robin should be stationed atop one of the many buildings surrounding the park. They both had access to the audio recorder in Bruce’s suit in case things went south. Bruce hoped it wouldn’t go south. Though, he didn’t think he’d be able to recognize a good interaction with the Joker. Which is why he had two trusted second opinions on standby.</p><p><br/>
At three minutes before eight, a tall figure strolled out of the alley across from Bruce, whistling an upbeat tune. Bruce scoffed. He could recognize the silhouette from anywhere. Probably knew it better than his own damn shadow.</p><p><br/>
He sat down at a bench and Bruce could finally see his face as the streetlamp lit up his pale skin.</p><p><br/>
Joker was completely dolled up for their meeting. His face paint was powdered nicely and it fits him like a mask. How long did he spend to make sure it didn’t drip down his neck unflatteringly or show up less opaque than he wanted? Set on his eyelids was dark purple eyeshadow and there was none of the dust on his cheekbones. And… of course. His lips were as red as cherries and the corners were overlined to give him a smile at all times.</p><p><br/>
Once he was settled on the bench, he checked his watch and then continued whistling. He swung his legs up and down like a child.</p><p><br/>
Bruce waited until it was the exact time Joker asked for before he left the alley’s darkness. Robinson Park was beautiful in the day but unsettling at night. He was used to people laying on the lawns and children running around. But it was late and the only other heartbeat here belonged to his mortal enemy.</p><p><br/>
He stood behind the bench where Joker sat. The whistling stopped as the man must’ve become aware of the menacing shadow stretching over his body. Joker giggled lowly.</p><p><br/>
“I was wondering when you were gonna show up, darling,” he cooed teasingly, standing up and stretching out as he did so. His spine cracked pleasingly and Bruce became aware of just how old he was too. They had both been doing this for too long.</p><p><br/>
“I’d hate to have you think I’m unpunctual,” Bruce replied. He crossed his arms over his chest. Joker’s green eyes met his and they stared for a moment until Bruce felt heat rushing up to his face behind the cowl. “Why did you ask me to meet you here?”</p><p><br/>
Joker smiled wide. “Did you like the flowers, Brucie?” Bruce stiffened up at the reference to his name. “Or do you prefer Batsy? I don’t mind, you can tell me if I make you uncomfy.”</p><p><br/>
Obviously Joker knew who he was. He sent the flowers to his company, after all. The hints had been there throughout their entire rivalry. It wasn’t the fact that Joker knew about the secret identity that hurt him, but the fact that he had no idea who Joker was. After all these years.</p><p><br/>
“The flowers actually made me uncomfortable, but apparently not enough because I’m still here.” Bruce stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He had about an inch and a half on the jester but other than that their figures were entirely different. Bruce turned his body into a weapon, a squeaky clean machine that could support his vigilante lifestyle. Joker was not like this; his body looked nearly emaciated on a good day but he was quick to move in any situation and he was clever to make alliances with those physically bigger than him.</p><p><br/>
“Yeah,” Joker sighed. “You’re still here.”</p><p><br/>
There was a shine in his eyes that looked enticing. He’d seen it before during their better fights. Holding Joke off the ground by his neck as blood spurted out of his nose. Being doubled over after a cheating move by Joker in which he stabbed his side, looking up at him as Joker stepped on his shoulder. An excited shine that threatened change.</p><p><br/>
Bruce wasn’t fond of changes. Past life-changing events weren’t ever kind to him and, though Joker wasn’t amazing, he was at least the most constant part of his life. He could always rely on Joker to be a despicable, deranged human being.</p><p><br/>
This Joker was still that person, but older. Despite the makeup, his smiles left a lifetime of wrinkles on his face. It took him longer to show up in public after a difficult fight. Bruce knew the toll their lives took, it was taking a toll on him too.</p><p><br/>
“Why am I here?” Bruce asked. He was getting impatient. There was a part of him that didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to hear that their little dance was over.</p><p><br/>
Joker laughed, cackled really. “Don’t get existential on me, Bats!” He clutched his middle as he laughed. “I— I just wanted to see you. I was heading to bed a few days ago and I thought to myself, ‘Why don’t I say hello to my man?’ But I don’t want to say hello, Brucie. That'd be ridiculous; especially this late at night. I want to say goodnight.”</p><p><br/>
<em>Not goodbye</em>. Bruce let out the breath he had been holding. He wasn’t leaving him. There was nothing to describe that euphoria. Images passed through his mind of past lovers and partners and friends saying <em>Goodbye</em> and not coming back. Or saying <em>Goodbye</em> and coming back different. Goodnight isn’t final. It’s just farewell until morning.</p><p><br/>
Against his better judgment, Bruce stepped forward and placed his gloved hand on the pointy purple shoulder. Joker trembled a little, and he didn’t know if he would start laughing or crying.</p><p><br/>
“I don’t want to do this, Bats. What we have is so… so special.” Joker’s gaze never left his. “But I’m tired. This is a dance of cat and mouse but my toes have been stepped on far too many times. And I know your toes are hurting too.”</p><p><br/>
Bruce knew what he was talking about, despite the weird analogy. He felt the same way. A bit incredulously, he asked, “So is this your way of asking me for a ride back to Arkham, or…”</p><p><br/>
Joker grimaced. “No. This is just an impulsive way for me to ask if you wanna honeymoon with me?”</p><p><br/>
“There’s no honeymoon for retirement, Joker.”</p><p><br/>
“Good! So we’ll be the first to have one! I’m sure you’ve got hundreds of beautiful, empty cabins waiting for our chaos,” he giggled and placed his hands snugly on the curve of Bruce’s hips. His fingertips played with the texture of his suit. “I’ve promised this to you before. You’ll never be rid of me unless you can kill me yourself. And I intend to keep that promise.”</p><p><br/>
Thank God. The tensions that were at a near-constant whenever he was with Joker began to dissipate and Bruce comfortable placed his second hand on Joker’s other shoulder. The clown snickered a little and began swaying them both, whistling the tune from earlier. Bruce went along with the movements.</p><p><br/>
“Where do you wanna go?” He asked.</p><p><br/>
Joker hummed like he was lost in thought. Then he mischievously snuck a blood-red kiss on Bruce’s jaw, the only part of his suit with open skin. “I heard Disney World is great this time of year! I wanna see you in those little fucking mouse ears, Brucie.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's chapter two! At this point I kind of just wanted to experiment and explore as many different voices and reactions as possible. Again, the voices are a bit weak, and I think I could write better if I invest myself more in the canon content in general, but I'm still pretty proud of my work!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was cold this Gotham night. Tim Drake didn’t really want to be here. He had much better things to do— like working on his college essays, or asking Zoanne Wilkins on a date, or doing literally anything else other than sitting on the ledge of a damp rooftop, hacking into the other buildings’ security cameras and listening to Dick Grayson prattle in his ear about “I Spy” while they wait for their target.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce didn’t tell them what this was about. Or who he was meeting. Which could only mean he was meeting someone bad. Someone villainous. Not that either he nor Dick could judge; they’ve had their fair share of evil partnerships. But he was curious as to who it was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s probably Selina or something. I don’t even know why we’re here,” Dick complained through their shared earpiece. They could listen to Bruce and each other, but they couldn’t talk to Bruce. Only listen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim rolled his eyes. “If it were Selina, then we wouldn’t even be here. She’s only a thief. I can’t imagine Bruce needing two counts of backup for her.” He fiddled with the cameras, ensuring he had all eyes on the meeting spot. “Besides, she left him. Remember those months where he was especially broody?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From Camera L1, he saw Dick shudder at the memory. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nearly eight pm. Bruce’s mystery date should be showing up any minute now. Tim wondered if he should be prepared for some sort of violent, flamboyant entrance. Something with fireworks and maybe a crashing blimp. Some of these Gotham villains loved that kind of stuff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t shocked so much as he was caught off guard by the whistling. Dick gasped over the communication system. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t look away as the man of nightmares cheerily sat on a bench underneath a lamp post. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is gonna be one hell of a night,” Dick groaned. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Dick couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this a hallucination? Should he be getting more sleep? Was this some sick joke another villain was playing on them? Why was Bruce going along with it? He filtered his mind through anyone who could make hallucinations like this but came up empty. Who would want to do something like this? What would they gain?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The odd couple had moved on from swaying in the light of the streetlamp to sitting on the bench together in silence. That disturbing clown was laying down, his feet on Bruce’s lap, while Bruce was staring down at his ridiculous shows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Tim’s voice through their communication device stopped his racing thoughts like a freight train into a brick wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the man we’ve known our entire lives playing footsies with a deranged, evil clown?” Dick responded, trying his best to lighten the mood. That’s what he did best. Tim was the guy on the computer, Jason was the menacing anti-hero, Damian was the annoying little brother, and he was the funny older brother. The one who tried to make everything okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was not okay, though. Nothing would make it okay. And he was kind of freaking out a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we intervene?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim scoffed. “Unless Bozo the Clown gets handsy, I’d say not. Why did Bruce even bring us here if he was just going on a date with the guy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this is more than a date…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Tim could be calmer than him. He wasn’t Robin for as long as him. He didn’t know what happened to Bruce when Jason was killed, he only saw the aftermath. Dick couldn’t even remember the first time he fought Joker as Batman and Robin; it was all some kind of a blur. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were just sitting there for a while. Dick couldn’t say he was upset about it— better than</span>
  <em>
    <span> other things</span>
  </em>
  <span> they could be doing after finally relieving all of that tension. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The worst part about all of this is that Dick wasn’t very… surprised. It all made sense. The kiss Joker gave Bruce’s cheek seemed to fall directly into place. And, well, Dick and Alfred always joked about how they were made for each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick gasped. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alfred</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Tim added. “How are we supposed to tell them? God knows Bruce is gonna keep this to himself for as long as he can.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we just leave?” Dick asked. “I don’t wanna be here when they start canoodling.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce and Joker were getting closer, moving positions so that Joker’s head was resting on the vigilante’s shoulder. He seemed to be singing softly, legs swinging again. There wasn’t a doubt in Dick’s mind that this weird bonding could go on for hours if he and Tim allowed it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connecting them finally, Tim coughed and said, “Wrap it up, Batman.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Joker jumped at the mechanic voice and grinned even wider than before. “Ooh! Is that one of your little birdies! I didn’t know we had some voyeurs with us tonight!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Dick could get a closer look, he is confident he’d see Bruce rolling his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were here for backup. Your ominous little note wasn’t giving me great hopes, you know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clown leaped up from the bench and squinted. Comically, he crouched a little and held one hand above his eyes like he was looking in the distance, but Dick knew it was not a joke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are those little birds’ nests, anyway?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce was quick to grab his wrist and pull him back. “Leave them alone, Joker.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He giggled and put a hand on Bruce’s waist. “Awe, Bats. If you wanted to slow dance you could’ve just told me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick gagged. “Tim. I’m going in. I can’t stand this anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Godspeed, brother.” </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Alfred was happy to stay home during Bruce’s escapades. It did worry him slightly that he needed both Nightwing and Red Robin with him, but he supposed that was only natural. But two of his partners? Couldn’t one suffice? Besides, Tim had to work on essays. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped he wasn’t trying to finish any upon a dirty rooftop. Doesn’t Bruce know that young adults need sleep? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Obviously not; he remembered as he thought of countless sleepless nights as Bruce worked in the Cave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he happened to be stress-cleaning, sue him. Jason and Damian were in the other room. Jason was teaching him how to play Street Fighters, a staple in the Wayne household since Dick came into their home. The memory brought a smile to his face. Good memories, those were. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now Dick had followed Bruce, into a possibly dangerous mission. Alfred was going to request a two-month vacation when they returned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His watch gave a little chirp. They must be back already? It was only ten pm. Usually Bruce took the boys out for longer than that and he would’ve expected them to take hours. Alfred remembered times in which they didn’t come back until the early hours of the morning, after a particularly enticing lead into whatever Bruce was investigating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He entered the other room to alert the rest of the family. “Master Bruce has returned, boys,” Alfred updated. Damian jumped up from the floor and bolted out of the room, nearly jabbing Alfred with his elbow. Jason noticed and scowled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rude-ass demon brat,” he grumbled. He nodded towards Alfred. “Everyone back in one piece?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The watch didn’t tell me any different.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a special tech made by Lucius Fox, a close business partner and friend of Bruce. And, he supposed, to himself as well. They weren’t as close, but Lucius was absolutely his first choice when it came to a wrecked batsuit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jason nodded. He was a changed man after coming back. Alfred knew this, Dick knew this, and (while it took a few months) Bruce knew this too. He took on the role of Red Hood. He distanced himself from the family for two years before making an appearance at the Wayne manor’s front door, dressed in civilian clothes. And he smiled and said, “Morning, Alfred. Have one extra spot at the table for a stray?” And Alfred knew they were on the right steps to reconciliation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They heard the thudding of footsteps before they saw him. Damian </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>run into Alfred this time, his tiny fists holding the fabric of his jacket. He was panting hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, little guy, what happened?” Jason asked. His eyes darkened. “Is everyone alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damian scowled at the nickname, but then looked up at Alfred. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Four came back. I don’t know who, but I saw Bruce putting them in the holding cell in the Cave.” His eyes darted to Jason then back to Alfred. “I think it might be the Joker.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three stood in silence for a while. All lost in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jason’s fists clench and unclench. This would be an issue. A big issue. But they didn’t need to think about it for long, because Tim interrupted their silent conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was holding his laptop, proving Alfred’s earlier suspicions right. He frowned slightly and reminded himself to scold Bruce later. Tim looked tired but annoyed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damian, you absolute heathen,” he murmured. Damian scowled. “We barely parked the car and you had to butt your ugly head into everyone else’s business.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not my fault you guys brought a monster in the Cave!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick showed up from behind Tim and got in between them. “Can everyone just chill for two seconds please?” He was nearly pleading with all of them. He was looking straight to Jason, who nodded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wordlessly walked away toward the Cave. Dick coughed into his fist and looked to Alfred. Even after all these years, Alfred still saw the twelve-year-old boy who was terrified after mistakenly breaking a plate while trying to wash it. He calmly removed Damian’s hands from his clothing and clapped his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“While Master Jason goes to investigate, why don’t I make some hot chocolate to lighten the mood, hm?” He acknowledged Tim. “Would you like me to bring yours up to your room?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim sighs. “Yes, please. I wanna sleep and forget that tonight never happened.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They watched in silence as he left the area. This night was cracking up to be a rather silent one. Without a verbal agreement, all three left to go to the kitchen. Damian was still fairly new to the family and hasn’t warmed up to the daily routines. He sat stiffly in one of the island counter’s barstools, hands in his lap. Dick was slouched over in his own barstool, fingers massaging his temples. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked as if he aged ten years. At the very least, he understood how Alfred felt about Bruce. When he said this, Dick laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, how do you do it, Alfred?” He asked, dropping the humor down a notch. Alfred stared into the warming saucepan of milk and began breaking the chocolate bar and dropping the bits into the liquid. It made a pleasing cracking noise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a rum cabinet in my bedroom,” he said softly. Damian gave him a sharp look but Dick just laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment it was easy to forget that Jason was down doing God-knows-what to Bruce and the Joker in the Bat Cave. It was easy to think of this as a simple bonding experience and not the inevitable storm that was sure to come from this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred has had his own fair share of explosive guests at the manor. Even when Thomas and Martha were still around, they’d have rather corrupt guests at their dining table. Guests that Alfred would have to serve and that Martha would send scathing looks toward. Bruce wasn’t shy to invite criminals to the manor. Selina Kyle being the main offender, though Bruce doesn’t really have a choice in her showing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He poured the finished hot chocolate into five mugs and then set the kettle down to make himself some tea. He paused, then turned to the boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think our guest would like some hot chocolate?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s asleep,” a gruff voice said. They all looked to the frame of the kitchen and saw Bruce, looking more exhausted than he had in weeks. He was changed into civilian clothes, not pajamas, but Alfred had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick frowned. “In the cell?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce had a pained expression on his face. “I had to project bats on the ceiling for him to agree to sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dick snorted into his fist, but Damian just asked, “And Jason Todd?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He left a few minutes ago. Said he needed time to think.” Bruce looked especially morose at this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred removed the kettle from the stove as it whistled and poured him a cup. He turned to face his eldest charge. He’d practically raised Bruce through his teenagehood, and they’ve had their ups and downs together, but he never thought he didn’t trust him. He was the first person Bruce ran to at age fifteen, sobbing into Alfred’s shoulder while he apologized for liking boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he had calmed down and Alfred made him soup from his mother’s recipe book, he had explained that he liked girls, but he also liked boys. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Bisexual, I believe is what it’s called,” Alfred mused, and Bruce flushed up to his ears and nodded quickly. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And with countless other things, Bruce was never afraid to tell him things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So it was only natural that he was feeling a bit hurt, and maybe guilty, that this was kept from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe we also need some time, Master Bruce,” Alfred stated, allowing the corners of his lips to quirk up. “But, for speaking not thinking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce was looking rather pallid by now, but he nodded tightly and gestured to the dining room just off to the left of the kitchen. Alfred followed his lead. He shut the doors to the room behind them, leaving Dick and Damian to amuse themselves and keep the hot chocolate warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred cleared his throat. “I would like to make this quick because I do not want to keep young Master Tim waiting,” he started. “I am not disappointed in you, Bruce. I am not angry, I am not upset. If anything, I am a little guilty that I have not been a trusting enough figure for you to come to with this knowledge.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man in front of him, once a boy, took deep breaths. He had a bit more life to him now that Alfred had explained his stance more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason must’ve not had similar sentiments</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he remembered the weariness Bruce wore when he entered the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not that I didn’t trust you…” He looked to the ground, trying to find the right words. “I didn’t know how I felt. Still don’t really know. He’s a bad guy, an awful, horrible, disgusting guy. But… after a while, it gets tiring. He’s tired of being bad, I’m tired of stopping him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forgive me for laughing, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, trying to hide the laughter bubbling up in his chest. “But is this a matter of retirement? Are we finally at that point?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce glanced behind him at the closed door to the kitchen. Four kids, all of them trained under Bruce’s guidance. Two were heroes in their own right and the rest were growing into their own identities. For once, Alfred could see the blatant trust in his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re at that point, Alfred.” Bruce smiled. “What do you say? Wanna be my butler as I and a post-homicidal clown go to Florida?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would we go there, Master Bruce?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruce followed him as he took Tim’s hot chocolate up to his room, spilling about the entire evening (which Dick and Tim so pleasantly called their “first date”) and explaining when things changed for him. Eventually, he led Alfred to the entrance of the Bat Cave. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna go down to see him?” Bruce asked. “He should still be asleep, so you’re safe from his bad jokes.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alfred chuckled softly. “Of course, Master Bruce. Let’s see where this new adventure takes us.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for reading! This is the end of the fic, but I appreciate all feedback in comments and in kudos.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Maybe I'll post another chapter with the bat fam's reactions?</p><p>This is my first fic with Bruce and Joker. I feel like I don't have a hold on their voices yet, so it feels a little weak. Constructive criticism, comments, and kudos are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>